


I Kissed A Girl

by KirkyPet



Series: The Shipping Forecast [13]
Category: Mad Max Series (Movies), Mad Max: Fury Road
Genre: Age Difference, Courtship, Crack Pairing, Dream Sex, Drunken Shenanigans, F/F, F/M, Inspired by Music, Knifeplay, M/M, Matchmaking, Mild Hurt/Comfort, New Years, Old Age, Partying, Pregnancy, Secret Crush, friend sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-11
Updated: 2017-08-11
Packaged: 2018-12-13 15:19:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11762691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KirkyPet/pseuds/KirkyPet
Summary: Sex and gin and rock’n’roll…the Citadel’s first New Year Hootenanny(I'm so sorry, this is FAR too long. But it's mainly dialogue so maybe it won't SEEM long. Live in hope, anyway. And there IS a crack pairing in here, which took a bit of working up to. Disclaimer: one of these hookups only happens in a dream)THIS IS OFFICIALLY MY CRINGIEST CHAPTER. Of this I am aware :)





	I Kissed A Girl

“I should have guessed, I suppose. The signs were there.” Toast sighed as she agreed to take Cheedo’s turn at the monthly audit. You didn’t renege on a bet, no matter how distasteful the forfeit. 

“I mean, that time I ran into Furi coming out of the garage” she mused. “Couldn’t figure out what was up with her at the time. Flushed  _and_  flurried.” 

“And Max was there, right?” Cheedo grinned. 

“Yeah, but I thought they were just having a fight…he had a rip on his shirt and this big purple mark on his neck…” 

Cheedo smiled and shook her head, not a little condescendingly. “Toast, this is Furi and Max you’re talking about...don’t you think that’s maybe their way of doing it?” 

She remembered the life-or-death struggle by the Rig, how the two of them had grappled. She’d been too petrified with terror to notice at the time,  _obviously_  but, in retrospect, Cheedo had often wondered if that hadn't been something akin to foreplay.  

Like in her books, but a battle of dust and blood rather than words. 

“Yeah, but he might’ve just really pissed her off.” Capable intervened. “It does happen.” 

“Well...he didn’t look angry though, more dazed-like. I’d thought maybe she’d hit him alongside the head or something.” she shrugged helplessly. 

“Herbaceous or woody?” 

“What?” 

“The stem...” 

Blank looks all round. Sometimes it was hard to tell what conversation Dag was having… 

“The  _schlanger_ …” Dag clarified, as if explaining to the hard-of-thinking.  

“Oh!Right” Toast looked at her sister curiously. She half-expected her to start sprouting leaves herself some day. 

“I didn’t notice. Wasn’t  _looking_. Besides, he was behind his car. Said he was busy...sorting something out…” Toast’s voice tailed off. 

A snort came from Dag. 

Either way, it was pretty conclusive now. Plain for the eye to see, as it were. 

* 

Toast grumbled to herself as she walked.  _It all comes down to_ _schlangers_. She didn’t get the appeal. They were so ridiculous, whether they were dangly and floppy or rubbery and bobbing in the air. 

She’d asked Capable,  _nagged_  her to explain what it was like getting fucked by someone you liked.  

Capable had done her best, she’d gone on about how it was a  _nice_  kind of hurt, how she hadn’t wanted it to stop. How she’d begged him to keep going, even after it was obvious that he couldn’t anymore. He’d touched her with his hands then, she’d showed him how.  

 _That_ part Toast understood. It was everything up ‘til that point that she couldn’t wrap her head around.  

If there was one thing that irritated Toast, it was  _not knowing_. 

Then she brightened, remembering she was due to meet Willy and the Band. Bickering with Willy was her new favourite hobby, guaranteed to shake her out of a huff. 

* 

Well, one thing was certain. Furi and Max had bred, and they were having a pup. Cheedo would always complain when Toast called them that…  _‘Pups are Pups, but babies are_ babies _…’_ she’d say, like she thought that was some kind of logic. 

Anyway, Toast couldn’t quite absorb the image of Furiosa having a  _baby_. She and the Feral would definitely have a  _Pup_. A wily, fierce little Pup. A fighter, for sure. 

But Furi was the last person Toast had expected to see all round and full like…well,  _nothing_  like how she was when they first met her, all hard edges and sharp points. _T_ _ouch me and I’ll break you, look at me and I’ll stare you down_. 

Just how Toast wanted to be. 

She’d heard stories from the older Boys who remembered Furiosa as a War Boy. They’d only been Pups themselves when she’d been fighting in the Pits, bare to the waist, painted in white and black. She’d been just another Boy then, apart from the missing arm.  

They’d been all but floored by the news she was breeding now. 

Her name had been Cog. Toast wondered if she’d picked the name in a mood of desperation, resignation that she was trapped here, destined to die for Joe.

But that was Furiosa’s way of avoiding the Vault, so she’d clearly had a plan of some sort. A long plan. Toast had been conceived, born, grown and dragged spitting and snarling to the Vault herself in the interim.

Toast would have given anything to have joined Furiosa then, if she’d known. To have even  _seen_  her.

Now she was ‘blooming’…Cheedo’s words…the Fool’s pup growing inside her. It seemed to be agreeing with her, though. She looked hopeful, spent hardly any time staring distractedly at the horizon. When she did, it was with purpose, probably thinking about the New Green Place. 

Sometimes, though, she’d look different. Afraid. That the pup wouldn’t be right. Phyllis would keep saying,  _there’s no little one ‘_ _til_ _it’s able to announce itself._ Reminded Toast  _not_  to keep calling Zal ‘Grandad’. It wasn’t fair on a man, to get his hopes up when little ones were involved.  

Especially when Max had been wandering around who knows what godforsaken hot zones since his last one. His swimmers were probably cannibalising each other by now, Phyllis lamented.

The Vuvalini didn’t know the words  _Grandfather_ and _Grandmother._  They were just all family. There were too few of them who would live to be old enough anyway, since they didn’t allow their girls to fuck before they were eighteen years, regardless of how early their blood had come. Too early to start before that.

Toast wished someone had told Joe that. Hell, someone probably had. He would have had his own ideas. 

And Phyllis had been grumbling about having to deal with having a father around at a birth. A  _grandfather_  would be just impossible. But she had a particular frown on, though, so everyone could see she was pleased about it really…

So everyone was excited, worried, speculating about the new development.

And then Max got taken down by a Buzzard bolt. The look on Furi’s face then…it was the second time Toast had seen it. That look that reminded Toast to  _never ever hope for anything._

He was okay, of course he was okay. It was Max, right? But it all got a bit more serious after that. Furi walked round in a fog for  _days_. The Fool’s been around a lot more since then. No bad thing. 

* 

“ _dink, dink_ … this thing on?”

* 

They’d all been a little nervous about organising a big event. So the New Year committee had come to a unanimous decision. It was called ‘giving the Celebrations a freestyle dynamic, to reflect the new spirit of the Citadel’. It could have alternatively been called ‘winging it’ or even ‘copping out’ but it took off a lot of pressure. None of them wanted any Joe-era spectacle, full of grandiose posturing. 

On the downside, it relied on the Citadel residents stepping up for impromptu performances. What if the Boys got an attack of shyness? It’d hadn’t been known to happen before, but never say never. The People were an unknown quantity…even after a twelve-moon, many of them still kept themselves apart. But the former Milkers were loudly proclaiming their excitement about the event and there were several acts on the bill that would hopefully get things swinging.

Besides, Jerome and Leo pointed out that they’d engineered emergency performances under pressure in the past.  _Don_ _’t worry about it_ , they’d assured them.

* 

There had been some self-conscious ceremonials to start. The Remembering, then the Naming. Important things, sombre, quietly joyful. But no one really wanted the mic for long.

There was a widespread sense of relief when the Hootenanny was declared  _open_. Some of the younger Boys scrambled to set up extra microphones and others dashed off to get the singing box from the terrace. 

Refreshments stalls popped up like mushrooms after rain, drawing the bravest of the People.  

Curious sounds reverberated off the Citadel walls.  _Boom Boom._  A sound that would typically have the War Party on alert. But no…it was just a Boy called Brad. He was the proud owner of a deep bass voice that could make water cups vibrate across the table. An ancient man of the People… _a ‘physics teacher’ in the Before_ _, he said_ _…_ _odd,_ _he didn’t look like the fighting type_ _…_ was giving a lesson in something he called ‘acoustics’.

*

Althea sat on the platform of the grain silo as the sun went down, making a silent toast to those lost on the Road. Both on that epic day a twelve-moon ago, and during the long wandering years before.

In the distance she hears Phyllis sing her song, the only one she seems to remember. It’s beautiful and sad and triumphant despite it all, and makes Althea smile.

 _With a sad lament my dreams_    
_Have faded like a broken melody_  

There’s the unmistakable sound of someone trying to be heard just below. It was well known that Althea went armed, even within the relative safety of the Citadel. Old habits and all that. 

“Evenin’…” Ace called out. “Join ya?” 

“Sure.”

Ace climbed the ladder and sat down stiffly on the platform edge.  _Looks tired_ , Althea thought, as she handed him the flask. 

“How’s it hanging, old man? You look how I feel.” 

Ace took a swig and grunted a little. He handed it back with an enquiring look. 

“This? Phyl’s New Year Gin. Got a bit creative with the new produce. Dag’s got a good crop of herbs in. Yeah, I know, right? Growing things just for their taste? The times we live in…” 

“It’s good. Different.” 

Althea didn’t know if Ace was referring to the gin or not but she nodded in agreement. 

“Shame we had to lose so many along the way though...” she murmured. 

Ace nodded. He’d been mulling over that himself. Especially since the women had attached such significance to  _The New Year._   

Ace had always counted his half-life in days, and it had been a challenge to start thinking in these bigger chunks of time. He could cope with Moons, that was easy. Especially with Cal around. You just had to watch the sky. Twelve Moons to a year seemed a bit random, but who was he to argue? 

Twelve Moons ago, the Citadel sent its best and strongest onto the Road. One in twelve returned.  _Twelve again…maybe it’s a special number after all…_  

“I knew ‘em all…good lads, most. Lot of ‘em would have liked this…” he looked up and round. “Would’ve been no trouble, if they’d made it. Others... not so much.” Ace shrugged, sighed. “Maybe for the best…” 

“Sometimes wish none of it’d happened? Couldn’t blame you…” 

Ace shook his head. 

“Things needed changin’. Weren’t gonna happen without blood. The way o’ the world. Just miss the old faces sometimes…” 

“You two are alright, though?” 

Ace knew who she meant. They still thought he might be mad at  _her._ His tread was worn way too thin to be to be angry anymore. But it’s a New Year, need to try clear away old arguments. Try to explain. 

“If I raged at her, I’d have to rage at the whole world. It’d never end. And then what would I be?” he sighed wearily. 

Althea nodded happily and nudged his shoulder. “You’re a good man.” She liked to be able to say that and actually  _mean_  it.  

 _Man, eh? He’d have to tell Caleb._ Ace changed the subject, pleased and embarrassed despite himself.  

“Young ‘uns seem to be enjoyin’ themselves.”  

It was a bit strange to say  _young ‘_ _uns_ and mean…well,  _all_  of them. Not just Boys or Pups. 

To think that War Boys, Wives, Wretched, Milkers and Wasteland Ferals would be gettin’ up a  _party_ …? But yet here they were. 

They’d officially named the new pups…babies…at noontime. Two by the Widows, four by the Milkers, one by a cut-down Blood Bag, three by miscellaneous Citadel women and an incredible  _ten_  from the Wretched-as-was.  

Twenty fresh new lives they’d celebrated. Looked like some of them might even be full-lives, though time would decide on that. No brand for them. 

The Boss’s pup would be named in another twelve-moon, if it made it. It made him a little dizzy to see her all full and, what’s  _more_  incredible, glad to be so.  

To think she’d let the Feral man breed her. It’d been plain to see that she liked the Feral, he was  _the Boss’s Man,_ but Ace had never seen any signs of them trading paint…not that either of them  _wore_  paint…but here was a definite sign now. Ace hoped it’d come out sound enough to be named.

To think that Ace would be thinking ahead to this time Twelve-Moon… 

 _It actually seemed to be working._   

But Ace was still sceptical, despite everything. It was his second who kept him moving with his infectious enthusiasm. A wise head full of youthful dreams… 

Ace felt old. And lonely.  _Shoulda gone long ago_ he thought. Did he think he was being clever, sticking around here instead of heading to Valhalla like the rest of his peers? 

* 

Althea watched him slip back into melancholy. It didn’t take a genius to see what was on his mind. And she knew how he felt, in part at least. 

“I’m the oldest of my kind as well…” she murmured.  

Ace lifted his head, half-guiltily.  _Was he so transparent as that?_  

“Phyllis is ‘bout, I dunno, seven years younger? Keep was the oldest for a long while, but she was  _ancient_.” 

“How old?” Ace asked. 

“Phew, nearly sixty. Fresh air and clean livin’, she said. Pretty sure she was kidding, though.” Althea offered the flask up to the sky with a smile. 

“What’s that in days?” Ace asked. 

“You got me there. Bloody Citadel timekeeping. See now why it’s inconvenient?” 

They both sat for a few minutes, calculating in their fingers. Ace got there first, having had more practice and less of Phyl’s gin. 

“Just shy of twenty two thousand…V8…” he gasped, impressed. 

Althea shrugged. Too many zeros on the end and it lost all meaning. 

“Didn’t think it was possible…” he went on. 

“Zal’d be not far off that…” 

“Yeah…but int he a wizard or somethin’?” Ace grinned. He’d heard so many daft stories about the Boss’s Dad that he’d either believe everything or nothing.  

“And you?” he asked. 

“Well…I was fourteen when Zal’n the others showed up…” she frowned “That was thirty three years ago…forty seven, then. That’s…” 

“About seventeen and a half.” 

“Damn, you’re good. Seventeen and a half sounds way better than forty seven. Shame about the thousand days part. Could almost imagine it  _was_  three years ago…” 

Althea seemed to shake herself and beamed at Ace. The smile looked a little forced, he thought, but then he was never that great at reading faces.  

“Never thought I’d live this long. It kinda feels like a challenge, y’know? To see how long you can hang on? Maybe even make it to twenty.” 

“It did. It  _was_ , but…” Ace let out a long breath, shook his head. 

Furi had said that Ace was about sixteen when she arrived here. Only late thirties now.  _Fuck, this isn’t right_ , Althea thought. Suppose it’s all relative. Depends what you’re compared with. That thought spun her off onto a wild theory…that didn’t seem so very crazy after a couple of seconds scrutiny. 

 _Okay…let’s test the waters…_  

“You sound like you need to get laid…”  

“Hmph” Ace shifted uncomfortably. 

 _Okay, she’d intended to broach the subject more subtly than that. Back it up..._  

“I mean…” she frowned with the effort “…don’t you Boys hook up sometimes…? Sharing bunks and that? Furi mentioned it. Obviously  _she_  didn’t participate, but she had her reasons…she’s not opposed on general principles, you can see that yourself…Or, y’know, maybe with  _other_  people, not Boys…?” 

 _Fuckin_ _’ gin, no more for_ _me..._ she thought, suspecting she had crossed the line between fluency and rambling. 

To her relief, Ace didn’t take offence. Maybe he took  _pity_ , but that was fine. 

“Aye, that has been known to happen.” he confirmed. 

“Welllll….?” 

Ace reached for the flask and took a huge gulp. 

“It’s been a while.” 

“How long?” 

Ace swayed slightly with the effort of mental calculation. “More’n two thousand days. Six years, say.” 

“Owww… there was me feeling sorry for myself…nobody since?” 

Ace shook his head. Took another drink. 

“You were, what, thirty, thirty-one? Who was it? ‘Nother War Boy?” 

“Nooo…too old for War Boys then. Rock Rider.”  

“Oh yeah?” Althea raised an eyebrow.. 

“Yup. Big hairybeard.” Ace smiled sheepishly. He was swaying a little now. 

“Last War Boy, then?”  

“Brick. Lancer. Witnessed.” Ace set his jaw and tried to rest his elbow on his knee. He missed. 

“Ah. Sorry.” 

“’S’alright. Happens.” His nostrils flared a little. 

“Sooo… these Boys. You’re not…y’know…their  _father_  or anything…?” 

Ace snorted.  

“No?” 

“Noooo…s’not  _that_. Jus’ too old…” 

“You’re not  _old_. In your prime! What’s a few years?” 

“Thirteen.” 

“Wha’?” 

“Thirteen years. Four thousand nine hundred and twenty days to be…um…” 

“…precise?” 

“Hmmm” Ace nodded. 

 _So there’s a Boy. A particular Boy. About_ …Althea couldn’t work out how old, but a good bit younger. If she just could sober up, she could maybe… 

“ _Why_  too old…?” she couldn’t remember if she’d asked that already. 

“Remember ‘im when he was a  _Pup._  ‘S not right. Not  _normal_.” 

“Thirteen years is  _nothin’”_  Althea made a dismissive gesture. “Fuckin’ _…twenty_  maybe, but thirteen…?” There was something else…oh yes…” _Anyway_ …what’s  _normal_  anyway? All kinda changed lately, right? What’ll  _normal_ be next year?” 

Ace groaned. “Wouldn’t look at me anyway…too  _old.”_  

Althea gave up. This was too hard. They were going round in circles. 

“So you’re just gonna… _not do anything_ …? For the rest of your life?” 

“Nope.” Ace set his jaw stubbornly.  

 _Ace was a stubborn drunk._ _Furiosa_ _could have have told Althea this, but it had never come up._  

Althea let out a long breath. Well, she tried... 

* 

“So…y’ever done done it with a woman?” 

Ace blinked, thought for a moment.  

“No” he concluded. “Where’m I gonna fin’ a woman anyway?” 

“Suppose…” Althea shrugged. Joe’s Citadel didn’t sound great. Maybe those that could, ran off. 

“Some of ‘em did, though. Boys.” He went on. “Told me to try it. Some of ‘em were even willing. The women, I mean.”  

Ace frowned, sobering slightly at the sound of his own words. This was one of those  _then_  and  _now_  moments. Something deemed okay  _then_  that was definitely not okay  _now._  

He froze a little, uncertain. 

Althea broke the awkward silence. “You didn’t, though?” 

Ace shook his head. “Always something going on, always too much to do…and, well, we were all together…” he shrugged. “Suppose I like what I’m used to.” 

“Yeahhh…that makes sense.” Althea reached for the flask. It was empty. No matter, here’s another. She settled back comfortably.  

“Men only came visitin’ once a year back home. Only us girls most of the time.”  

“Men off raidin’, sorta thing?” 

Althea nodded. “And we’d run the settlement.” 

Ace grunted. That made sense. They seemed to be able to do most things, apart from lancing. Shooting off of bikes, like the Boss. 

“And I can put in a good word for women, by the way. Great for most things. Though…” Althea added, wistfully “… _and this is just one woman’s opinion_ …” 

She rolled over and jabbed Ace’s elbow with her finger “…there’s nothing quite like a good cock.”  

Ace blinked. He thought they were talking about fighting, maybe fixin’ stuff. His mind must’ve wandered. 

“And you’re of the same mind.” she observed, settling back again with a skyward smile. Stars were coming out. She raised the flask to the heavens in greeting, and handed it to Ace again. 

Ace shifted position with an awkward grunt. He wasn’t sure exactly  _why_ he was lancing. Prob’ly the topic of conversation. And the drink. He took another swig and slumped back clumsily. 

Ace’s mind was racing, despite the gin. He wanted to ask, but couldn’t bring himself. He’d never get another chance, though.  _How do they…?_ He suddenly  _really_  wanted to know…or at least he wanted to know what it’d be like to…maybe… 

Althea’s head was spinning, her heart pounding. It wasn’t just the drink. She wanted to ask, but couldn’t frame the words. She stole a glance at him…he wasn’t asleep, wasn’t gazing up at the stars. He was glancing sidelong at her, kind of…curiously. 

“What’s it like?” Ace went for it. “With a woman. You...you like it?” 

“It’s softer. You don’t get the chin rash, y’know? And…well…it’s quite wet. If you’re doin’ it  _right_ , that is. ‘Cos we make our own…ehm….” 

“Lube. Oh yeah, I know that. But…d’ya use a tool or what? ‘Cos, y’know…no gearsticks…” 

Althea snorted. “Can do.” 

“And how’d you know you’re doin’ it right? How’d you know you’re done?” 

Althea considered “It’s hard to explain. It’s like redlining, then your transmission seizing up.” 

“Sounds…dangerous. Don’t it hurt?” Ace was leaning on his elbow now, his pupils dilated. There was a tremor in his voice. And he no longer looked self-conscious of the tenting going on in his baggy pants.. 

Althea smiled, bit her lip, shook her head. 

 _Fang it_ , as Furi would say. She sat up, legs curled behind her and looked him in the face. 

“You wanna try it?” 

His eyes widened. “Yeah…” he breathed, not feeling quite so old and worn-out anymore. 

* 

She stripped down. Completely. He’d never seen a woman naked before, not by her own hand, anyway. 

She’d nudged him to sit up, back against the silo, and kneeled down over him, sat back on his still-clothed thighs. Ace knew that he’d just have to unbelt and shuffle a bit to get his lance free, not a big job. She wasn’t reaching for it yet, anyway. Maybe she wouldn’t. Maybe that wasn’t how it worked. 

“Just stop anytime…if you feel uncomfortable.” she’d said.  

 _Comfortable_  was not the word for how Ace felt right now, but he there was no way he’d ask to stop. Not yet anyway. 

“What do I do?” He didn’t know where to look, what he could touch, where he would even begin. He  _wanted_  but didn’t know what. 

“Whatever you want. I trust you. You can’t hurt me, don’t worry.” 

Ace reached out and touched the long braid that fell over her shoulder. The strip of fabric at the end came away in his fingers. Ace glanced up for permission and received a half-smile and a nod. He unraveled the coils of hair as best he could one-handed. When she reached up and shook her hair loose, Ace was entranced. Silver and gold, like the moon and sun all shining at once. He stroked it reverently as it fell over her breast. At this, Althea took a shuddering breath and rose up a little to fill his hand.  

Ace wasn’t slow to take a hint. Her breasts had certainly caught his eye before now, he just wasn’t sure if he should touch them. He cupped one in his hand and stroked the other lightly and she seemed to be falling apart. What would happen if…? 

He ducked his head, brushed his lips against a nipple, licked tentatively. A low whine, a helpless whimper in his ear. This from the Warrior who’d helped kill an Immortan. Ace's lance ached at the thought.  

This is what a Willing Woman was like. Not just willing, but  _wanting_. He didn’t want to think what an unwilling one looked like. 

His hands moved, carefully, gauging her responses. She had her lips at his ear now, inhaling deeply. He wondered if she’d avoid the lumps clustered there. No. Her hands lightly stroked his neck, his shoulder…got a little more forceful as they reached his chest, his arms. As his fingers brushed the silvery hair further down, she moaned out loud. Right in his ear. Made him jump a little.  _Ohhh, maybe that’s the part_ , he thought. 

“That…that the wet part? Can I see if…?”  

She growled in his ear, “ _Yessss_ _”_  

Ace explored with his fingers, feeling her shift against him, guiding him to the right place. He was glad of it, he might’ve got lost. But yes, this was the wet part.  _They were_ _doin_ _’ it right._ As hair gave way to layer on layer of softness, Ace realised that  _ohhh, it keeps on going_. And she didn’t mind, no, not at all. In fact… 

“Please…please…we don’t have to…but…” she wailed.  

“D’you mean…?” a thrill of excitement ran through him... 

“You think you could…?” Althea glanced meaningfully down at his crotch. 

Ace was pretty damn sure he could. He fumbled for his belts. This was turning out to be an interesting New Year. 

* 

“Sorry…” Ace groaned, watching her mournfully as she pulled her trousers back on. 

“Don’t need to apologise to  _me_ ” she assured him.  

And he really didn’t. From a purely selfish point of view, she’d got  _exactly_  what she wanted. Time to take him to where  _he_  needed to go now. She just didn’t want to be butt-naked when she was doing it, though. They’d pushed their luck far enough, and if they were to be caught now,  Althea would rather be decent. Funny how she hadn’t given that a thought earlier… 

“It’s…like drivin’ an automatic when you’re used to a manual…” he went on, willing his lance to subside. “Dun’t matter how chrome it is…feels off balance. Hard to relax into it…” 

“I understand. Really. Just bear with me a minute.” Althea fumbled awkwardly with her buttons. She’d come so hard she thought she’d gone blind for a minute. Still hadn’t quite regained her equilibrium yet. 

“Okay…let’s try something you’re prob’ly more used to…hey, what you doin’ there?” 

Ace, who was shuffling back into his pants, looked up in surprise. “Thought we were done…”  

He made a strangled noise deep in his throat and his cock practically made a  _bound_. 

What Ace saw before him was Althea crouched before him grasping a pair of short knives in her hand.  _How’d_   _she know about_ that _?_  he gasped inwardly.  

“What?” she asked, bewildered at his wild-eyed expression. She whipped her hair into a knot in one fluid motion, secured it with...  _Oh_... 

“Thought you were gonna…” he made a slicing motion with his finger. 

“What? No! Why would you think…?  _Ohhhh…_ is that…? The  _scars?_  Is that a  _thing?_ ” 

“Sometimes. On special occasions.” Ace’s eyes glazed over, mentally reliving the best night of his half-life. 

Althea raised her eyebrows.  _These Boys were something else_.  

“That’s one too many for me, sorry. But how ‘bout you shut your eyes and think about  _that_  while I do  _this…_? Yeah? Okay then…” 

She knelt down, licked her lips and took him  _exactly_ where he needed to go. Or close enough. 

* 

Ace buckled his many belts. He was grinning. It made his face feel weird, but he couldn’t quite fix it.  

Althea hummed contentedly as she pulled on her boots. As Ace turned to climb down the ladder, she called out “Hey…thanks.” 

He shook his head and rolled his eyes. Still grinning, he continued his descent.  

An external door opened, a cacophony of young voices. Most passed on, one came through, advancing toward the silo.  

Althea saw Ace freeze. Looking down, she saw it was Caleb. “Ace! Where you been? You missed the Little Birds Song! Y’alright?” 

“…” Ace opened his mouth to speak but nothing came out. 

“Hey Al!” Caleb waved up at her. “You’re missing the party!” 

“Gotta go…got a…thing” Ace practically bolted. 

“He alright?” Caleb asked, as the door slammed to. 

“Just a bit tired. Us old folks don’t have the stamina, y’know.” 

“Can I come up?” 

“Sure” 

Caleb clambered up the ladder. Althea sat, leaning against the silo, flask in hand. 

“Havin’ a good night? You done your song yet?”  

Althea smiled at the young man. She’d kind of stopped thinking of him as a boy, for all that he was so young. She'd suspected as much, now she was almost certain. Caleb  _was_  pretty special. 

“Not yet. Bit later. Bin shiftin’ the piano down from the Dome. Takin’ a break.” He waved a canteen.  

 _Water, bless ‘_ _im_ _…_ Althea thought. “You deserve it. Four flights of stairs? Get that water down ya.” 

He glugged it down, gratefully. Still didn’t feel right to drink so much. It was so much easier when someone gave permission. 

When the canteen was empty, Caleb sat still, just letting the water trickle down into his radiator, seep into the cavities, get to where it needed to be. It was a chrome feeling…no, not chrome…there was a better word for it, surely.  

Then he noticed, shut his eyes, looked away.  

“What’s up?” Althea asked.  _Everyone’s a bit maudlin tonight_ , she thought. 

“You got white on ya” he languidly waved a finger at her neck area, where her shirt began. She looked down and tutted. She’d made a fine mess of the buttons too.  

“Wish I was old…” Caleb mumbled quietly. 

“Live long enough, you will be…and don’t take the piss, lad” Althea retorted, wiping at her skin.  

She wasn’t bashful, but she could live without the ribbing she’d get if she went back to the party covered in evidence. Bloody stupid paint… 

“I’m  _not takin’ the piss_ ” Caleb returned, sharply for him.  

And this was true, Althea thought. He had plenty of quiet humour, but it never manifested itself that way.  

“And that’s no good, anyway. Always be too young…” 

“How old  _are_  you anyway?” Althea asked, slyly. 

“Twenty four and forty three days” he replied, mournfully. He was an advocate of the new years-and-days system, it being a good compromise. 

She did a quick mental calculation. Okay, that confirmed it. Althea handed Caleb her last flask, what was left in it. “Here. Try a bit of this.” 

He took a sip and licked his lips. “Hmm. ‘S’nice. Different.” 

She waved it away when he handed it back. “It’s all yours. I’ve had plenty.”  _You’ll need it._  

She regarded the Boy sidelong. Plenty of scars there, not so many as Ace, of course. Four thousand plus days worth of difference, she supposed. She wondered how many of them were the kind of scars that Ace was talking about. Maybe there soon would be. If she had anything to do about, there would be… 

 _Prob’ly_ _need to be delicate about it though…_  

“Ace’s problem is, he’s got it into his head that he’s  _too_  old. For lots of things. I’ve been tryin’ to convince him otherwise, but there’s only so much  _I_ can do…” 

The young man sat in a despairing reverie. She didn’t know if he was even listening… _right, to hell with subtlety…_  

“Caleb” she snapped, her small stock of patience exhausted. “You want to pair with Ace, you’d best get a shift on. Ain’t none of us getting’ any younger round here.” 

“…?” Caleb’s chalked face flamed. 

“Or you gonna just sit round mopin’ all night?” 

 “You think…?” 

“ _Yes_.  _Go._ ” 

He downed the contents of the flask and scrambled to his feet. 

* 

Althea followed at a distance. A tiny part of her brain was afraid that she’d got it all wrong and a horribly awkward scene would be the result. But the rest of her was just curious to see how two War Boys came to an understanding. This whole knife business, after all…? 

* 

Ace sat limply on a stone step. Any nitro from his experience earlier had been flushed right out of his engine. If anything, he was thinking  _clearer_ , which had only made things worse. 

Two dancers strutted and hopped around like a pair of flapping long legged birds, circling each other to the beat of the Drummer Boys. Crowds stood watching, clapping their hands to the rhythm and the deep  _thrum, thrum, thrum_ of Toots on the big twang-box.  

 _They_  knew what they were doing. Ace hadn’t a fuckin’ clue anymore. 

They suddenly began jumping and leaping high in the air, just as Capable kicked into action on her piano, rattling out a rapid tune that would have had Ace’s heart leaping once upon a time. 

Then it  _did_  leap. He caught sight of Caleb striding across the floor. Ace’s legs overruled his brain’s call to  _hide_  and he got unsteadily to his feet. 

Cal was coming to him, not a practical dreamer but a Boy with War in mind. He stopped just short of colliding with Ace, and nudged his head aggressively against his. Not a headbutt by any means, but hard enough for Ace to reel back a little from the impact. And the surprise. 

“Cal…wha’…?” he looked at his second, wide-eyed, unbelieving. 

“Ace.” Caleb growled, and sank his teeth into the older man’s cheek. 

 _Oh Glory_ , Ace whispered, closing his eyes. 

The piano riff ended with a flourish, the crowd went wild… 

* 

Caleb licked the trickle of blood from Ace’s face. Teeth clenched, shoulders squared, he stared down his Imperator, nose to nose. 

Ace blinked confusedly at him for a second that seemed to last for an eternity. He took a shuddering breath, parted his lips on Caleb’s cheekbone. He bit down hard. 

Caleb shivered with euphoria and found himself going half-limp with relief. He hadn’t allowed himself to contemplate what would happen if his claim had failed. Imperators weren’t  _claimed_. They did the claiming. But he  _had to_ …some things were just too important. 

He’d always been Ace’s. But now Ace was his. 

* 

Ace’s glow faded slightly as he remembered what had gone before. He had to tell. Althea wouldn’t mind, he knew and, besides, maybe Caleb already knew. 

“Cal…I…I lost some paint tonight.” He licked the blood from his lips and looked at Caleb plaintively. 

“Lost…not traded?” 

“Lost.” 

“Not a War Boy?” 

Ace shook his head. 

“And you won’t be wantin’ to do it again?” 

“’Course not! Paired now, ain’t I?” He gently knocked skulls with his partner. 

“What was it like? It  _was_ a woman, right?” Caleb asked, innocently. He was glad there hadn’t been a War Boy as well. That might have been awkward. There was a protocol for resolving rivalries and it could get pretty messy. Whereas he judged Althea didn’t want to challenge him, since she’d sent him after Ace in the first place. 

Ace huffed a small laugh in his relief. Of course Caleb knew. There was nothing that Boy couldn’t figure out. 

“Well, it’s kinda like drivin’ an automatic when you’re only used to manual….” 

Caleb draped his arm round Ace’s shoulder and they wandered off through the crowd. 

* 

Althea, watching the two bleeding men from a safe distance, shook her head and smiled incredulously. So  _that’s_ War Boy courtship in action… 

* 

“You’re alright, y’know…” Toast slurred as she leaned towards Willy “…for a  _total_ _schlanger_ _…”_  

Their work was over for the evening. Toast had acquitted herself well enough in her first try at play-acting. It wasn’t as hard as everyone said, in fact it was barely like acting at all. And she’d got laughs, even when she wasn’t  _trying_  to be funny. So she must’ve made a decent job of it. 

And Willy’s Poor Folks had really  _owned_  Giddy’s old song. 

Now they were  _hammered._ Toast’s face had gone numb. 

Willy, never able to back down from a Toast-challenge, leaned towards her friend unsteadily.  

“Well…” that last drink had stripped away the last of her vocabulary “… _fuck_ _youuuuuu_ _..._ ”  

Toast blinked fuzzily and attempted to align the words she’d just heard. She was able to fix on a selected few, which is why she then… 

…wrapped her fingers round the back of Willy’s cropped head, and closed the bare inch that remained between them. 

The kiss was urgent, and fierce and hungry. Just how Toast had wanted it. 

* 

“Wow”  

Max’s eyes were wide as Furiosa turned to look at him. She’d felt him tense up, grip at her thigh.  

“Just when I think I’ve got used to this place…” 

“What is it?” 

“Just seen Ace and Caleb bite each other on the face…” 

“Aww…really? That’s chrome. Glad they finally did it.” 

“I’m lost.” 

“War Boy Claim. That’s them paired for half-life now. Caleb’s had a crush on Ace  _forever_. I suspected Ace was interested, but he keeps these things very close. Wonder what happened to get ‘em round to it?” 

“’S’alright then. I thought there was gonna be blood on the walls…” 

“Oh, there probably will be…” 

*  

“Never done that before…” Toast gasped. 

“With a…?” 

“With  _anyone._  Wanted to, maybe, a long time ago, but…” she glanced involuntarily over at where Furiosa was curled up very cosily with Max. 

Willy’s eyebrows shot up. “The Imperator? You got good taste…but you’re on a hiding to nothing  _there_ , girl…”  

“Tell me about it…” Toast groaned then, realising that could be misinterpreted, she clarified.  

“I bet Cheedo that Furi and Max  _weren’t_  fucking.” 

“Idiot...” Willy grinned. 

* 

“Have I claimed  _you_? Properly, I mean.”  

“Do you really want to go there? War Boy courtship rituals? Not sure you know what you’re letting yourself in for…” 

“Maybe you could show me.” 

“It helps if you’re brought up to it. Being a War Boy, I mean. I was a late starter at  _twelve_. Be a bit of a shock at your age.” 

Max huffed a little. “You’re prob’ly right. Hey, look…they’re up.” 

Caleb was taking the stage for his song, a big bite mark still oozing gore. Grinning like all his Christmases had come at once. 

 _Yeah…_ Max thought… _that’s one too many for me._  

 _*_  

That had been quite a dream…she still blushed to think of it. 

It had been not long after Furiosa had agreed to help them. But she had still been silent, a strong and silent presence in the Vault. 

Furiosa smelled different to the sisters, to Giddy. She smelled of gunpowder, guzzoline, blood and sweat. It drove Toast half crazed. 

One night she dreamed… 

Furiosa had come to her in the moonlight, wordlessly offering a pair of bolt cutters in her metal hand. As Toast reached out to take them, the toothed belt came loose from her hips. 

Toast had never spoken of it to anyone, there were too many sensations to describe. Soft mouth, callused fingers, skin on skin, the salt-sweet taste of  _her. The release._ She wished she could remember  _all_  of it, not just the delicious vagueness of being unravelled, mind and body. 

She woke, drenched with sweat and wept in frustration. The belt was still fast. 

She avoided Furiosa for days. She wouldn’t be able to look her in the face. If anyone noticed, they didn’t mention it.  

But as time went on, Toast realised Furiosa was too much of a hero to her, a role model, an older sister to ever be…whatever  _that_  would be. She didn’t want to put that person on a pedestal. 

Toast didn’t need a hero in her bed. But  now, maybe she would find out what she  _did_  need.  

She and Willy crept off to a quiet corner and they kissed ‘til Toast’s jaw ached with it. That would satisfy for now. They’d maybe work round to the other stuff by and by. 

* 

“Cay-leb, Cay-leb…” the crowd chanted ecstatically as the music crackled to a start. Dag had loaned the singing box for the occasion  _and_  the precious records, and there was a fever to hear an actual recording  _plus_  their top-ranking War Boy’s own song. 

 _Yeah-yeah-yeah-yeah…yeah yeah yeah_  an unfamiliar voice pealed out from the speakers. 

Then Caleb addressed the crowd in his own hoarse voice... 

“I want all you Boys to get up on your feet…buckle your belts and put your boots on your feet…and gimme some o’that ooooold moonstomping!” 

The Boys roared and leapt to their feet as one. It was a good beat for stomping, right enough. Though some of them were bobbing more than stomping, but that worked too.   
   
“Get ready...we got three million miles to reach the moon, fellas. So let's start getting happy now...”   
_..._ _Yeah-yeah-yeah-yeah…yeah yeah yeah_ _,_ the crowd were getting the idea. 

“Now remember, I am your boss Boy speaking, my name is Caleb, alright? And remember,  _I'm the boss_!” 

 _…._ _ooooooo_ _,_  jeered a goodnatured heckler 

   
“You can see, look at my boot, or my feet, or whatever you wanna to call it…you can see I've got the biggest boots” 

 _…that’s not right!_  the same wag interjected 

“Now, when I say "sing", I want everyone to get in the groove and start singing because we're on the moon” 

There was a another voice in the background encouraging them to ‘jump and prance’ so they did. And it seemed they were  _doin_ _’ it fine_ , the voice from the speaker said so.   
   
“Ready? One time…” 

 _Yeah-yeah-yeah-yeah…yeah yeah yeah_  

   
“Now, I want all you fellas to gather around me, and we're gonna start stomping. Ready? Here we go, one time…” 

As the Boys rushed the stage, one of them realised what it was that looked different. He pointed and yelled at the top of his voice… 

“Ace!!” 

As a body, they all cheered as they saw Ace and Caleb’s matching face-wounds. 

“Claim!!!” they yelled. 

Caleb grinned happily, but Ace lost his head altogether. 

“Listen here!” he grabbed Caleb’s fist and waved it in the air, “We’re totally…together!” 

A new track had started playing, and the Boys were bobbing along happily to the slower beat, occasionally chanting  _TOTALLY TOGETHER_ in time. It didn’t sound half bad. 

Furiosa put her head in her hands and laughed. “ _Oh Ace_ …”  She looked up at Max, eyes wide. “He’ll be so embarrassed in the morning.” 

“That was nice” Max beamed.

**Author's Note:**

> Phyllis is singing 'Perfidia'. The Phyllis Dillon version, funnily enough.  
> https://youtu.be/ovhc7dEAjEs  
> *  
> You know how actors are always older than the characters they play? I suspect that Wasteland living would at least double that. Hence, Gillian Jones' Vuvalini character being about twenty years younger than herself. Likewise, shaving about twenty years off of Jon Iles on account of War Boys probably not getting it any easier. Anyway, just 'cos they're knocking on a bit, doesn't mean they shouldn't get any.  
> New note - I owe Jon Iles an apology for confusing him with an older actor of the same name. Oops.  
> *  
> The two dancers were doing something like this to Capable and the Drummer Boys' act. It's Dave Brubeck's 'Unsquare Dance'  
> https://youtu.be/_yExwkQYcp0  
> *  
> And, in case anyone didn't pick it up from 'Skinhead Moonstomp', Caleb's song is 'Skinhead Moonstomp', by Symarip.  
> https://youtu.be/xHDBn7TL4JM  
> *  
> As mentioned briefly, the theatrically-inclined got up a play during the early part of the evening. The playbill was stencilled on Citadel walls as follows: 
> 
> The New Citadel Histrionic Society  
> presents  
> for one night only  
> The Rivals, a Comedy  
> by Richard Brindsley Sheridan 
> 
> Characters in order of appearance  
> Thomas (Nan)  
> Fag (Phyllis)  
> Lucy (Karl)  
> Lydia Languish (Dek)  
> Julia Melville (Taggy)  
> Mrs Malaprop (Zal)  
> Sir Anthony Absolute (Althea)  
> Captain Jack Absolute (Cheedo)  
> Faulkland (Capable)  
> Bob Acres (Dag)  
> Boy (Willy)  
> Sir Lucius O'Trigger (Toast)  
> David (Dolores) 
> 
> The librivox audiobook is very funny and really well read by various actors...apart from Lucy’s ‘So, my dear Simplicity…’ soliloquy which loses it a bit with the accent.  
> Rest assured, the Histrionic Society do not fuck about with accents. V8 be praised.  
> https://librivox.org/the-rivals-by-richard-brinsley-sheridan/  
> And Toast just had to be Sir Lucius O’Trigger…  
> “Is it for muskets or small field-pieces? Upon my conscience, Mr. Acres, you must leave those things to me.—Stay now—I'll show you.—"  
> *  
> War Boy Brad is named after Brad Roberts from the Crash Test Dummies, that song Mmm Mmm Mmm Mmm…anyone remember that one?  
> *  
> I tried and failed to get ‘proper’ evidence for a low-pitched voice causing things to vibrate enough to cause movement. Pain in the arse. It’s all ‘how vibrations cause sound’, nothing on ‘how sounds cause vibrations’. Annoying. Anyway, I can at least cite Terry Pratchett’s Maskerade. He knew all about physics. Probably.  
> “She concentrated on the notes, working her way stolidly upwards from sea-level to mountaintop, and took no notice at the start when a chair vibrated across the stage or, at the end, when a glass broke somewhere and several bats fell out of the roof.”  
> Take that.


End file.
